Unacceptable Sacrifice
by Gracielinn
Summary: "The part of his brain that wasn't concentrating on keeping her alive was torn between a dark fury at how she got injured and sheer terror at the unimaginable possibility that he couldn't save her..." (TFP)


_Note #1: This Wyatt POV one-shot is set early Season Two._

 _Note #2: This is in response to the following Timeless Fanfic Prompt: Character A is seriously injured in the middle of nowhere, and Character B must get him/her back home, or if that's not possible, nurse Character A back to health._

Unacceptable Sacrifice

sac-ri-fice: ( _verb_ ) to forfeit one thing for another thing thought to be of greater value...

So much blood. Even as Wyatt worked feverishly to staunch the frighteningly persistent flow of blood from the ugly bullet hole that desecrated her pale, delicate skin, a tiny (unwelcome) voice in his head wondered how anyone could survive losing this much blood, let alone a woman as slightly built as Lucy. The part of his brain that wasn't concentrating on keeping her alive was torn between a dark fury at how she got injured and sheer terror at the unimaginable possibility that he couldn't save her. To Wyatt's great relief, Lucy had lost consciousness several minutes ago, because watching her bite her lower lip raw as she fought not to cry out when he put as much pressure as he could on her wound was dreadful to behold. Her tear-soaked face was completely without color, and her breathing had already began to slow dangerously by the time her panicked eyes fluttered shut as she passed out.

Wordlessly, a grave Rufus crouched down beside Wyatt, shivering in the damp, frigid air as he handed him the last of the hastily-improvised bandages he had cobbled together from every extra piece of clothing the three of them had between them, not counting Lucy's ruined dress. After the two men had managed to get the blood-soaked, voluminous garment off her moments ago, Rufus had gathered up a meager amount of soggy, mildewed straw from the floor and covering it with her dress, fashioned a crude pallet in the only corner of the burned-out barn they had stumbled across that still had part of a roof over it.

At last, the blood loss had slowed to a sluggish trickle, enough for Wyatt to complete a cursory exam, and he was horrified to discover there was no exit wound. His hands stilled on Lucy as he swallowed thickly at the dawning realization that she was going to need surgery, and soon, in the most barbaric of circumstances. Even if they were lucky and the bullet had miraculously missed any major organs, there was always the very real chance that she could be bleeding internally or worse yet, that sepsis could set in quickly. Attempting the trip home without removing the bullet first might prove fatal to Lucy, and there was no way Wyatt was willing to risk losing her. He shook his head in stunned disbelief at how a day that began so routinely could have gone to hell so quickly...

 _Flashback_

He and Rufus, along with Agent Christopher and Jiya, were already seated around the conference room table at Mason and looked up in surprise as a clearly flustered Lucy burst unceremoniously into the room, her face flushing as she mumbled a breathless apology when everyone turned to stare at her, "I'm so sorry I'm late, I overslept and didn't see the text message until about 45 minutes ago, and then my car wouldn't start, and I had to wait forever for a cab because Wyatt had already left..." Her voice trailed off in defeat as she slid into a seat between her grinning teammates and deliberately lowered her forehead to the table in embarrassment.

Jiya smothered a giggle at the disconcerted expression on Agent Christopher's face while Wyatt merely reached over and began to gently rub Lucy's back in sympathy, saying politely to his superior, "Now that we're all here, please continue, ma'am," ignoring Lucy's muffled, "Yes, please, just pretend this never happened." After one last vaguely irritated look at the top of Lucy's head, the older woman resumed, "As I was saying, the mothership departed less than an hour ago and landed in rural eastern Pennsylvania in November 1864..." only to be interrupted a second time by Lucy, who hastily raised her head to ask with a troubled expression, "Did you say November 1864?"

At the agent's brisk nod of confirmation, Lucy solemnly explained, "That was a very important month during the Civil War as there were several key events that happened during those few weeks." Looking around the table, she went on, "First, on the 8th, President Lincoln was re-elected by a slim margin over his opponent, and might have actually lost the election if electoral votes from any of the 11 southern states that had joined the Confederate States of America had been counted. Then on November 16, General William T. Sherman's army began their famous, or rather, infamous I guess one might say, "March to the Sea," which basically cut the South in half and was widely considered the beginning of the end of the war because the southern states never recovered and General Lee surrendered less than five months later. Also helping to cripple Confederacy's cause was the Battle of Franklin, Tennessee, which was fought on November 30. General John Bell Hood lost six of his generals during the fight, a loss the Confederacy never really recovered from. So, in my opinion, Emma could really do quite a bit of damage in this particular time period by changing any one or all three of these," Lucy concluded soberly.

Agent Christopher turned to Jiya, "Do we know which day in 1864 they jumped to?" Rapidly tapping the tablet in front of her, Jiya confirmed, "Looks like November 12, a Saturday." The agent nodded, "Well, at least that rules out Lincoln's re-election, but I agree with Lucy that Ms. Whitmore could cause some serious harm in this time period. All right, then, people, get moving to Wardrobe, the lifeboat will be ready in less than an hour," and the team was dismissed.

While Jiya and Rufus obediently followed Agent Christopher from the conference room, Wyatt reached out and tugged on Lucy's hand as she stood and started for the door. "Lucy, I'm sorry," he apologized, "I should have waited and given you a ride this morning. It worries me that you might have been stranded when we live just across the hall from each other," but Lucy just squeezed his hand reassuringly and said lightly, "Please don't worry about it, Wyatt, it's not like we live together or anything," and was out of the room before Wyatt could even respond. " _Like living together would be a bad thing?,_ " he thought wistfully as he watched her hurry along the hallway.

Once the guys were attired in authentic Union soldier uniforms (even after more than a year in the Mason wardrobe bay, Wyatt still thought the garments reeked of sweat and loneliness), he and Rufus were just about ready to board when Lucy rushed down the steps and along the platform towards them, and Wyatt snickered softly when Rufus teased, "I think maybe her skirts might need an extra seat in the lifeboat," much to their historian's displeasure, judging by the scowl she directed at the two of them when she came into earshot.

"It's so unfair," she huffed, "I'm trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey," and when Wyatt impulsively leaned in closer to her and murmured, "Now, Professor, don't fuss, I think you always look good in a corset," he was pleased when her brown eyes widened and a faint blush stole across her cheeks. He turned and climbed aboard easily, and automatically reached out to help Lucy up and in her seat, patiently waiting for her to settle all those layers before stretching over to securely fasten her safety restraint. Wyatt was aware of her shy gaze as he deftly clicked the harness, and chancing a brief glance up, was startled by the unguarded emotion he thought he saw in Lucy's dark eyes before she looked away.

The lifeboat landed heavily in a hilly area that Lucy guessed was probably three or four miles west of Williamsport, Pennsylvania. They walked steadily east along a dirt road, passing several deserted homesteads. Wyatt nodded in appreciation when Lucy noted that this small town would eventually become the birthplace of Little League baseball in 1939, and at her quizzical glance, he shrugged and confessed bashfully, "I might have played some as a kid." Rufus, however, was impressed and intrigued when Lucy informed them of the strong presence in the area of the Underground Railroad.

When the team reached the outskirts of town about an hour later, Wyatt recommended splitting up, Lucy with Rufus, and handed the pilot his spare service weapon, explaining, "If I get a chance to take out Emma or one of her crew, it will be safer if I'm alone to keep you two out of the line of fire," and frowning slightly, shook his head in warning when the historian started to protest before clamping her lips firmly together and nodding reluctantly. The team agreed to meet up in one hour and went their separate ways.

Heading up the street, Wyatt had barely gotten six blocks from the others when he suddenly felt the business end of a Glock jammed under his rib. As he froze and instinctively felt for his weapon, behind him he heard Emma Whitmore say in a mocking, faintly amused tone, "Ah, ah, sorry, Master Sergeant, I'm afraid that would definitely be a bad idea. You see, I have a couple objectives here today, and unfortunately, you and your little team, especially your pretty historian, have a rather annoying habit of getting in my way," before stepping in front of Wyatt and reaching in his jacket, effortlessly snagged his gun and handed it to her partner. Wyatt immediately growled and began to struggle when the asshat holding the gun on him mumbled, "I'd like to get in _her_ way, any time."

"Now, Michaels, you know Lucy Preston is off limits, and not just because Master Sergeant Logan here isn't inclined to share his playthings," Emma taunted lightly as Wyatt snarled, "Shut your mouth. You're not fit to breathe the same air as her," but the redhead merely smirked and leaning into his personal space, patted Wyatt gently on the cheek. "You are just so gallant and sweet, and most of all, so protective of dear little Lucy, aren't you? And yet, in spite of your handsome face, so, so delusional if you think Carol Preston would ever let her precious Rittenhouse heir actually be with someone like _you_. Oh, yes, Dr. Preston has grand plans for her princess, and I think we both know you're not part of the equation," and gesturing to her cohort, instructed, "Let's go. The wagon bound for Camp Elmira is supposed to be leaving in about 30 minutes for New York, and he needs to be on board when it does."

At Wyatt's startled look, Emma cheerfully assured him, "Just wait, Mr. Delta Force, if you thought your time in Syria was hell on earth, you're headed for a luxurious stay at one of the Union Army's most famous Confederate prisons, affectionately nicknamed "Camp Hellmira" by the inmates for it's gentle, humane treatment of enemy prisoners. But lucky for you, since the prison was eventually shut down in July of 1865, I suppose there's always a chance you might survive the poor living conditions, that is, unless you starve to death first."

"Are you out of your mind?" Wyatt tried to stall, "Can't you see I'm dressed like a Union soldier?" Now openly amused, Emma studied his angry face and decided to enlighten him, "And that means what, precisely? Have you never heard of a bribe?" Looking at him pityingly, the redhead sighed, "God, you G.I. Joe types are all the same, always assuming everyone is as upstanding as you are, and sadly, it's one of your worst weaknesses, well, that, and in your case, a particular fondness for a certain history professor," and before Wyatt could respond, she swiftly tied a dirty-looking bandana across his mouth as his hands were roughly tied behind him, and ordered, "Now, move, we don't want that prison wagon to leave without you, Master Sergeant," and Wyatt grunted as the Glock was shoved harder into his rib.

Shoving Wyatt forward, the pair rapidly began to discreetly push him down the oddly deserted street towards an alley. As their little group turned the corner and entered the cramped, shadowy area, without warning, they heard the sound of a gun being cocked, and then Rufus warned in a low voice, "Emma, don't take another step." Taking his chance, Wyatt abruptly dropped to his knees and rolled away from his captor. As he turned back around and struggled to get to his feet, Lucy cried out, "No, Wyatt! Watch out!" and out of the corner of his eye, Wyatt saw her rush forward just as the thug Emma called Michaels raised his gun and fired at him.

In a kind of surreal slow motion, a stunned Wyatt watched as Lucy deliberately stepped in front of him, and he heard a hollow, sickening thud as the bullet meant for him hit her and she fell with a terrified scream at his feet. Wyatt dropped awkwardly over her body protectively, desperately struggling to free his hands. "Lucy!" Rufus shouted as Emma rolled her eyes and muttered, "Aw, shit," and calmly put a bullet between Michaels' eyes, "Stupid hired help. Dammit, her mother is going to be so pissed. I hope your first aid skills are up to date, Master Sergeant, because I can't stick around and help. Good luck!" and red hair flashing, she whirled around and was gone.

Rufus ran to Wyatt and hastily jerked the gag from his mouth as he stared down at Lucy in shock. "Rufus! My hands, hurry," Wyatt demanded, and the second he was free, reached for Lucy and cradled her limp body against him. Looking into her wan face, he scolded as gently as he could manage, "Jesus, what were you thinking, Lucy?" as her eyes fluttered open and tried to focus on him, "That man was going to shoot you, Wyatt, but I think he shot me," she gasped in shock. Wyatt swallowed painfully before giving her a shaky grin, "Yeah, that's what happens, Professor, when you get in front of the bad guy with a gun." Her answering smile turned into a grimace as she turned her face into his chest and whispered, "Wyatt, it hurts," and pressing his lips to her forehead, he murmured, "I know, sweetheart, but you're going to be fine," the endearment slipping out involuntarily as he ignored Rufus' look of surprise.

Trying to calm his racing heart, Wyatt told Rufus to try and find a doctor while he stayed with Lucy. Holding her securely in his arms, he tried to soothe her faint whimpers. Finally, after what seemed like an hour but was probably only minutes, Rufus tore around the corner, and judging by his expression, it was more bad news. He stopped beside them, wheezing, "There's only one doctor in town, and his office was locked. There was a note on the door that said the doc was at a farm in the next county delivering a baby," and Wyatt's heart sank as he stared at the pilot in disbelief.

He thought frantically for a moment before coming to a decision. "Okay, Rufus, we need to get Lucy out of here, find some place to take shelter so I can take a look at that gunshot wound. If the authorities find us, there's no way we can explain how a woman with two Union soldiers got shot that they would believe. Check that body over there for my gun and pick up his Glock just in case. We can't leave a modern gun here, you know Lucy would have a fit if we somehow corrupted history," and a smirk briefly appeared on the other man's worried face before he nodded and did as Wyatt asked.

"Now, help me get Lucy to her feet, and take it easy. As you probably remember, she's in a world of hurt right now," as Wyatt very carefully got to his knees, trying desperately not to jostle Lucy while Rufus crouched down to support her shoulders. "Okay, we each take a side and lift her slowly to her feet," as Lucy's eyes blinked open and she looked up at them in confusion, asking, "Wyatt? What happened? Did I fall down?" before letting out a sharp yelp as they brought her upright as slowly as possible. "Stop, Wyatt, please, it hurts, please stop," she cried out, tears sliding down her face, and his heart clenched at the thought of causing Lucy even more pain.

"Shh, Lucy, I'm so sorry, but we have to get out of here. Please, can you try to walk just a little, please, for me?" Wyatt begged, putting his hand on her cheek, and he had never been so proud of her as she blinked back tears and hazily attempted to focus her gaze on him and nodded hesitantly. "That's my girl," he praised, as they slung their arms around her slim shoulders and moved in small increments away from the main street to avoid arousing anyone's suspicions. It was one of the slowest, most arduous journeys that Wyatt could remember, with he and Rufus doing their best to keep Lucy moving forward without hurting her any more than they had to. Wyatt himself was all too familiar with what getting shot felt like, as recently as the team's second mission to 1865 D.C. about a year ago. " _Great, now every member of the team has been shot. The Civil War was just not a good place for their team,_ " he concluded morosely. Glancing down at her, he noted that all the color had leeched from Lucy's face, and although she tried valiantly, she was unable to suppress her soft cries of distress.

Finally, when the team had trudged about a mile from town, Wyatt spied an old, half burned down barn in a field a short distance from the road. Just then, Lucy put her cheek against his shoulder and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Wyatt," and her pain-dulled eyes rolled back in her head as she fainted. Reacting quickly, he caught her and picking her up in his arms, followed Rufus across the field to the ramshackle shelter. As the other man held open the door, Wyatt hurried inside, looking in vain for a suitable place to put Lucy down. "Wyatt, there's a pile of straw in the corner," Rufus pointed out, "Think that would work?" Wyatt nodded quickly and urged him to hurry. "You got it," he responded, "But hey, we can't lay her on this stuff, it's filthy and damp and probably scratchy as hell. What about using Lucy's dress or her petticoats? If we can get them off of her without causing her too much more pain, I can make a little bed for her. Thank God she's wearing so many layers."

Wyatt's brows drew together as he contemplated his friend's suggestion, "Okay, good idea," and he knelt down and lowered Lucy against him, turning her around so Rufus could begin to undo the long row of buttons that marched down the back of her dress. Unfortunately, just then, Lucy came to and began to thrash about, and Wyatt felt a sudden ominous warmth against his chest as her wound began to bleed profusely. "Faster, Rufus, so I can lay her down, she's starting to bleed more heavily," he urged as he tried to calm an increasingly disoriented Lucy. "Just a sec, okay, done," Rufus said and painstakingly began to pull the blood-soaked dress down and away from her slender body.

 _End Flashback_

"What? Wyatt, what is it?" a slightly panicked Rufus shook his arm, "You're starting to scare me." Wyatt closed his eyes tightly, "No exit wound." At his friend's muttered curse, Wyatt opened his eyes and said grimly, "We have to get the bullet out or the wound will likely become infected. And with no antibiotics, an infection like that could half kill her before we get her home." Rufus took a deep breath, and asked, "All right then, what do you need me to do? Except for actually performing the surgery, 'cause I've already been there, done that, and no way I'm doing that again," and in spite of their grim situation, a fleeting grin flashed across Wyatt's worried face as he recalled his friend's first and last experience with removing a bullet.

A sense of calm enveloped Wyatt as he mentally compiled a list of what he needed to save Lucy. "You're going to have to go back into town, Rufus, to get a few things. That bullet has to come out before sepsis starts to set in. Do you have any coins? And my second gun?" Rufus checked his pockets and nodded affirmatively. "Good. All right, here's what you have to bring back: a blanket, alcohol, needle and thread, some kind of cloth for bandages, and something to cut with, even a penknife will do," and Wyatt inhaled sharply at the nauseating thought of cutting into Lucy's soft skin, "I think that should suffice, oh, wait, it's going to be dark soon, better get a lantern or candles and matches if you can't find a lantern."

Rufus hesitated, and looking over at Lucy, observed, "I'll do my best, but it might take a little while on foot. Wyatt, after you get the bullet out, how are we going to get Lucy to the lifeboat? It's probably another couple miles from here to where we landed this morning," and he gazed expectantly at the soldier, who sighed in frustration before answering tiredly, "Then I guess you better add a horse and wagon to your list." The pilot pursed his lips together tightly in resignation, and after patting his friend on the arm, hurried out of the barn.

At the sound of a low moan coming from the corner, Wyatt turned and immediately dropped to his knees beside Lucy as she moved restlessly on the rough pallet. He leaned down closer and gently cupping her flushed cheek, murmured, "Easy there, Ma'am, shh, I'm here, try not to move around too much, okay?" She blinked furiously in an attempt to open her eyes, and Wyatt's heart twinged at the confusion he saw reflected in her dark gaze. Biting her lower lip as tears slipped down her face, Lucy whimpered, "Wyatt, it hurts, please make it stop, please, Wyatt," and he had never in his life felt so helpless.

"Lucy, sweetheart, listen, I need you to stay still, okay? You've been shot, and there's no exit wound, and the more you move around, the worse the bleeding will be," and at her baffled frown, he smoothed a soft lock of black hair from her clammy forehead and clarified, "Lucy, the bullet is still inside you, and as soon as Rufus gets back from town with supplies, I need to take it out." As she continued to stare up at him, obviously not comprehending his words, Wyatt tenderly wiped the tears from her grime-streaked face, and gently teased, "You see, a certain contrary female I know may have stepped in front of a bullet that had my name on it, so believe me, Lucy Preston, when we get back home and I know that you're going to be okay, you and I are going to have words," and his breath caught when her gaze cleared and his Lucy smiled faintly and responded, "I would do it again in a heartbeat."

The teasing grin abruptly fell from his face as Wyatt fought to control his fear and guilt at her confession. His brows drew together in sudden anger, and leaning even closer, he stared intently into her dark eyes and whispered harshly, "No, Lucy, no way. You listen to me. You do _not_ get to forfeit your life for mine, no Ma'am, _ever_ , that's never going to happen. Do you understand? Lucy, promise me," and his heart sank when one corner of her mouth curved upward and she said regretfully, "Sorry, soldier, no promises, it's my life to give," before closing her eyes and drifting off.

"Stubborn female," Wyatt thought despairingly, and sliding his arm cautiously under her pliant body, held Lucy as closely as he dared without hurting her. Shivering in the dank, chill air, he thought thankfully maybe the cooling temperature in the barn had at least slowed the flow of blood from her wound. While waiting impatiently for Rufus to return, he might have occasionally pressed his lips briefly to her increasingly warm forehead, but told himself it didn't mean anything, he was just checking her temperature ( _that's bullshit, Logan, and you know it_ ). At last, after sitting on the drafty dirt floor for who knew how long, a cold, cramped Wyatt thought he heard a noise outside, and holding on to Lucy with one hand and grasping his gun tightly with the other, barely breathed for a few tense moments until he heard a familiar voice call out, "Wyatt? I'm back." He shut his eyes tightly in relief when he realized it was Rufus, and from the sound of it ( _thank you, God_ ), his friend had found a horse and wagon.

He looked up in gratitude when Rufus hurried inside, arms full of supplies, and advised, "Got everything you asked for, Wyatt, except a lantern. Did find a couple of candles, though, and matches," and just shrugged modestly when Wyatt grinned and declared, "Well done, Rufus, you are _still_ a badass in my book." Slowly dropping his arms from around Lucy, he gently placed her slack body back on the pallet and got up to help Rufus carry everything inside, estimating they had maybe a couple of hours of daylight left before the sun set. Wyatt fervently hoped he found the bullet quickly because getting to the lifeboat was going to be hard enough without them stumbling around in the dark with a gravely-injured Lucy.

Working quickly, the men got everything ready for the emergency operation. Per Wyatt's instructions, Rufus tore the quilt he had brought in two and hastily gathering up the last of the straw, used one half to make another bed for the surgery, saving the other half for the trip home. "Okay, Rufus, I'm going to pick her up and put her on the new pallet, and if you would, once she's settled, light the candles while I wash my hands with the alcohol." Deftly scooping Lucy up into his arms, he winced when she moaned at the sudden movement without opening her eyes. Wyatt tenderly lowered her unresisting body to the makeshift table, and once he was satisfied with her placement, touched her cheek lightly before turning to pick up the whiskey bottle and splash some over his blood-stained fingers.

He was a little dismayed at the size of the penknife that Rufus had brought, but it would have to do. Instructing the pilot to bring one of the lit candles closer, Wyatt began to pull away the blood-soaked wads of clothing before painstakingly slicing through Lucy's clothes, peeling the stiffening, bloody material away from her skin as gently as he could. Looking over his shoulder, Rufus hissed in dismay at the raw, oozing wound, "Damn, Wyatt, that looks bad," and although he privately agreed, Wyatt said nothing as he continued to cautiously examine Lucy's torso, trying to locate the bullet. Finally, he felt a small lump along her slender waist, and breathing a sigh of relief, said, "I found it, thank God it's just under the skin, and I won't have to dig around. Can you bring me the whiskey? I need Lucy to drink some of it first to hopefully numb the pain."

Crouching down beside her still form, Wyatt lightly tapped one of Lucy's cheeks, trying to coax her to wake up. Her eyes fluttered open slowly as she stared up at him in bewilderment. "Wyatt? Where are we?" "Lucy, we're in Pennsylvania in 1864, and you were shot, do you remember?" he answered, and after a moment, she nodded tentatively before asking plaintively, "Can we go home now, Wyatt, please? My side really hurts," and shaking his head reluctantly, was dismayed to see her eyes fill with tears. "Lucy, I have to remove the bullet first, and I'm not going to lie, it's going to hurt like hell, but as soon as I finish, we'll get you patched up and head for the lifeboat, I promise, okay?" Sniffing and blinking back her tears, Lucy shuddered and whispered bravely, "Okay, I trust you," and Wyatt prayed he deserved it.

Instructing Rufus to get behind Lucy and slowly prop her up so she wouldn't choke, Wyatt held the whiskey bottle to Lucy's lips, urging her to take a couple swallows. She grimaced and tried not to gag at the strong, bitter taste of the cheap liquid. After the third drink, Lucy turned her head weakly and pleaded, "No more," and he hoped it was enough. Stepping away from her, Wyatt poured a generous amount of the whisky all over his hands, and picking up the penknife, doused the small instrument thoroughly. He knelt down to find Lucy watching him with lethargic eyes and before he got started, felt compelled to apologize ahead of time for hurting her. She blinked slowly in response, looking up at him before reassuring him, "Wyatt, you would never hurt me. This is not you hurting me. This is you saving my life because I don't want to die, okay?" And Wyatt nodded, humbled by the trust she had in him.

While Rufus firmly held Lucy down by the shoulders and anxiously whispered reassurances to her, Wyatt took a deep breath and cut into her pale skin, painstakingly probing the wound for the bullet. Lucy flinched and groaned around the piece of cloth they gave her to bite on, but once he located and began to extract the slug, her eyes rolled back and she mercifully lost consciousness. Quickly dousing the open wound liberally with alcohol, Wyatt closed it with neat, precise stitches, before wiping away as much blood as he could and putting a thick pad of cloth against the incision and tying another long strip of cloth around her narrow waist to hold it in place. This hadn't been Wyatt's first attempt at field medicine, but he fervently hoped it would be his last.

Rufus offered to get the wagon ready for moving Lucy while Wyatt quickly gathered up everything and tied it in a neat bundle to take with them. Leaning over Lucy, he was pleased and relieved that her skin felt cool to the touch, and wrapping the rest of the blanket around her, lifted her up and carried her outside. It would be dark soon, and already the air was beginning to rapidly cool down, and he shivered from the cold, or maybe just fatigue. Rufus got up on the seat and picked up the reins as a suddenly exhausted Wyatt climbed in the back of the wagon and curled himself around Lucy. He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, the wagon was pulling up in front of the lifeboat. Rufus hurried inside and began flipping switches while Wyatt stiffly climbed out of the back of the wagon. He unhitched the horse, and smacking it on the rump, sent the animal back in the direction of town. Between the two of them, he and Rufus managed to get a still unconscious Lucy out of the wagon and up into the lifeboat where Wyatt swiftly buckled her in place before fastening his own harness. "Get us home, Rufus," he requested urgently and reaching across to Lucy, held her hand tightly for the brief trip back.

The next few hours passed in a blur as Lucy was rushed to the Medical wing as soon as the lifeboat landed, with Wyatt close behind. Thankfully, Agent Christopher had taken one look at the two men and decided the mission debriefing could wait. He had been sitting in the waiting room with his head in his hands for an hour or so when Wyatt felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see one of the nurses smiling at him. "Master Sergeant, Dr. Preston is going to be fine. She's all cleaned up and has been moved into a room. We started her on an I.V. of a pretty strong antibiotic, along with a light sedative, and she'll probably sleep for several hours yet if you would like to get a shower and maybe a bite to eat. Oh, and the doctor said to tell you that you did a heck of a job removing that bullet," the nurse informed him, and patted his arm kindly as she left the room.

Thirty minutes later, a showered and freshly-shaved Wyatt was sitting in a chair beside Lucy's bed. As the nurse had promised, she seemed to be resting comfortably, and he was nearly overcome by the strength of his emotions. He had been so afraid of losing Lucy, and now she was safe, right here beside him, and Wyatt realized he never wanted to leave her. Gazing at her sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed, at the reassuring rise and fall of her chest, he thought about all the possibilities the two of them had not yet discussed, and Wyatt knew without a doubt she was the _only_ possibility he wanted. ( _Of course, he was still going to have words with her about that whole "taking a bullet for him" thing because that was just not acceptable, no Ma'am, not at all._ ) But he knew Lucy needed her rest, and a couple hours of sleep sounded pretty good to him right now, too, so, scooting the chair as close to the bed as possible and taking her small hand in his, Wyatt gratefully shut his eyes. The words would just have to wait until tomorrow.

 _A/N: Now they will have matching scars, lol... I actually started this fic back in July or August, and after writing the first 600 or so words, I just hit a wall, so I abandoned the poor thing. Then, when the TFP added this particular prompt back in for the January contest, I thought maybe I could make it work. Hope everyone thinks so! Bunches of sincere thanks to all of you who read, favorite, follow, and (hopefully) review my stuff...it means so much to me! :))_


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